


if not, winter

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-05-19 00:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19346002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: Instead of being sent to rehabilitation after the Blight, the surviving Templars of Kinloch Hold are subjected to a Chantry experiment to create super soldiers bonded to demons. Only one lived and became known as the Winter Soldier, a secretive assassin of the Chantry who was frozen and hidden away after failing to stop the Kirkwall Rebellion.The Inquisitor Max Orwell, an ex-Templar recruit, believed that his childhood sweetheart died at Kinloch. Now weeks before the diplomatic peace talks in Orlais, he learns at the worst possible time that Cullen Rutherford is alive and has been ordered to kill him. Self-destructive and spiraling, Max is forced to his breaking point, knowing that he would sacrifice anyone and anything to save his first love's life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had this draft for a kink-meme fill that was maybe 2k sitting in my documents since last July. I actually wanted to write a different avenue to deal with my Endgame feels but someone reposted the request and this felt like a good opportunity to do both! It ended up being a bit of rougher and darker than I first expected, but I have the outline sketched out and I think it'll have a satisfying ending. I hope.

**cw: dubcon, descriptions of unsafe and unhealthy sex**

It had been a rumour, sent out into the word by Leilana, that the Inquisitor was Lord Maxwell Trevelyan, the youngest of an influential family in the Free Marches. There were two benefits to this. The first was to protect the real Inquisitor as every enemy searching to end his life was looking for a noble with greatly different looks. The second was for clout. Trevelyan was an impressive figure, with decades of diplomatic experience, and known for great piety. He was handsome, clever, and well beloved. 

Max Orwell was a decade younger and significantly less impressive. He was a failed Templar, abandoning just before he could take his vows during the Fifth Blight. After that year of hell, he had gone to the Free Marches to seek a new life at a lay monastery. Not to pray, but to protect. The small seaside religious community of Aineres had pooled together their resources and had written to the chantry in Denerim to request someone from Ferelden come to work for them for basically no money. Ferelden specifically because most of the criminals robbing them were from the country and they hoped a Ferelden presence would help stop it. Max had nothing and he disliked bullies so he got on a boat and left. 

He spent seven years in Aineres. It was a place that required little from him. With the presence of a Ferelden sword, most robbers left them be and only bothered the nobility who came to visit to purify their souls before returning to decadent lives. That was how he had met Trevelyan. Six months before the Circle fell, Trevelyan had been traveling to yet another summit on the issue of mages when he had taken ill and spent several nights in Aineres. Max had no idea how he had made an impression, considering he had mostly ignored him, but before Trevelyan left he approached Max and gave him a calling card. If Max ever needed work, he should go to Ostwick and take a position in Trevelyan's guard. Max had told him off at the time but when the world seemed like it was going to hell and the commune asked him to leave, he found himself at Trevelyan's door. Two years later, he was the man's personal bodyguard, a silent shadow behind him at all political meetings. Almost never leaving his side, except one foolish occasion. As a result, Max was the one who received the mark while his master was busy in the village below, presumably in bed with one of the locals. 

Now Max was the one forced to play diplomat. Trevelyan had stayed on as an advisor to the Inquisition and had pretended to be the Herald for a time by coyly denying to be him at multiple public appearances. But then Haven happened and a hundred people watched Max walk away from an avalanche. Then the stories spread and Max went from being mostly unknown to a folk hero. A folk hero who still had most of his achievements credited to Lord Trevelyan. Max mostly didn't mind because it meant people usually sent assassins after his former employer and not him. It was, however, going to be a problem in a few weeks. The Royal Court was expecting a very different Inquisitor to visit the Winter Palace. A tall distinguished man just over forty, with fair skin and raven black hair streaked with grey. Broad shouldered. Winning smile. Firm handshake. A hearty laugh that could turn to a menacing growl if the occasion called for it. He was dashing and he was kind and he was not a man one crossed without consequence. Plus he had now wooed the remarkable Dorian Pavus and having the foreign mage on his arm only added to his allure. It should have made him notorious but it only made him more admirable. 

Max wasn't small exactly, but he took up a lot less space. He had hit five and a half feet when he was sixteen and hadn't gained a bit since. He was lanky too. He wasn't thin. Most of it was pure muscle, but it wasn't defined. It only showed when he was using it and hell, he could use it. He had definitely used his smaller frame to his advantage, lulling enemies into thinking he was weak and then utterly destroying them. He was as skilled with a blade as a buccaneer and he could use a shield better than most could use a sword. And he wasn't unattractive, really. His dark thickly curled hair was almost quite pretty when it was tied back in a bun and his tanned brown skin glowed almost golden in the summer. He had scars like any did in his profession, but most of them were covered in formal wear. His nose was a bit large but it suited him and his eyes were a bit deep set but they were nice enough. He was less of someone who people immediately needed to take to bed and more of one that someone woke up beside and thought, "Well, it could have been worse."

Max's point in all this was that in six weeks all of Orlais was going to be very disappointed by who was going to be introduced to the Empress. He didn't blame Leilana or Trevelyan. Both of them had been attempting to keep him alive and Josephine had spent months raising Max's profile and making sure he was seen at dinner parties and other events. It was just that people assumed Trevelyan was the Inquisitor and normally Max couldn't care less. It was just going to make an awful night even worse. Or, as Sera pointed out, could make it kind of hilarious. 

But it was the date. That damn date. How could it be ten years exactly from the day Cullen Rutherford had been found dead? Why did it have to be then?

He had hid his expression in the meeting the best he could, but he lost his composure as he went back to his office. It wasn't like he thought about him every day anymore. Some days, maybe, but not every day. He had crossed his mind more and more as of late as the war with the Red Templars continued. Max was grateful he had left the Order before he had started lyrium but some small sick part of him was grateful that Cullen had died when he did. If something like that had happened to him, if he had been forced to face him on the battlefield...

Max made it to his study and sat at his desk. Field missives from Commander Aveline flooded one corner, Orleasian grammar books from Josephine on another, reports from Cassandra on a third, and intercepted letters from Leliana's people on the last one. The small patch in the middle was covered in his personal letters, usually full of civilians asking for help or hate mail, threatening his life and safety. He had plenty of things to keep his mind occupied but he could focus on none of them. Instead, he took out the coin he had carried in his breast pocket for almost eleven years. He placed it on the desk before him, staring at it. It had been in the Fade with him. Such a weird thought. That last piece of his first love in the last place it should ever be. 

First love. That was how he described it to people, but it didn't convey enough. From the ages of twelve to twenty they had spent every single day together. They were best friends, brothers in arms, childhood sweethearts, they were...everything. Max had loved him from the moment they met, when Cullen pulled him out of a fight that Max shouldn't have started. He didn't even remember what it was about. He was always picking fights, even though he was a shrimp of a kid. But Cullen always backed him up. Cullen was always there for him, until the day he wasn't.

It wasn't his fault. Not really. There was no way they were being posted together, not with how many times they had been caught together. They needed to be separated, they needed to be reminded God was above all things. Max blamed him all the same. He thought Cullen could find a way to fix it. If he really loved him, he could fix it. 

The night before Cullen left, Max was desperate. He had stolen him away into an abandoned hallway, kissing him senseless. He wanted him. Cullen had wanted to wait until marriage, only allowing some groping and grinding and other things they could pretend didn't count. Max had gone along with this, just wanting him any way he could have him, and holding out some hope that they would run away together. Forsake everything and elope together. But now, now if there was no future, if they would never see each other again...

Max whispered, "Please. Please, don't leave me." 

Cullen kissed him and everything shifted. Neither of them spoke, though Max still cried silently. Everything happened quickly then, Max shoved up against the wall. They barely took off any clothes; someone passing by might not have even realized what was happening. No slick, no soft tender foreplay, just a brutal entry and a few quick thrusts before Cullen spilled into him. Max just held him. Max held him and kissed him and swore his undying love and pleaded with pathetic soft whispers. Had Cullen said anything in return? Max didn't know. He couldn't hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat. Max came untouched, the only time he ever had, and he cried, gripping onto him. It had hurt, but it wasn't just the ill-conceived sex. It was what Cullen's actions had said, better than any words could. There was no future wedding night. There was no cabin in the woods with their dogs and their children. There was no growing old together. There was one quick painful tryst that would destroy them both.

The Tower of Magi would fall eight weeks later and Cullen Rutherford was reported as killed in action. His personal possessions were sent back to his family, including a half-written, mostly crossed out letter that he had never had the chance to send to Max. Maybe he had never planned to do it. But he had kept it in an envelope addressed to him, his lucky coin affixed inside. 

Through all the censorship and all the revisions, Max could only read two lines of Cullen's last words to him: 

_I love you._

_I'm sorry._

A decade later, Max had moved on. He had to. Cullen was dead and had been dead for a very long time now. Max had taken other lovers, most of them not much longer than a night or two. Max wasn't much interested in romance. He had been in love once and it had broken him. But that last night changed how he viewed sex and how he wanted sex. He was a grown man. It didn't take intense confession to figure out he had abandonment issues and he associated rough sex with his first love. But the reason why no longer mattered. It just was what it was. Max came hardest when his partner ignored him, did whatever they wanted to him, and was indifferent to his own pleasure. It wasn't like that was the only way he had sex or even enjoyed sex. But it was something he craved and something he indulged in, when the circumstances were right. An experienced partner, maybe, or a sex worker with a penchant for sadism. Or even a lighter version of his desires if it came to it. Max was generally smart about these things. 

But at that moment, he was not thinking very clearly. He hadn't been for some time. It was all building and this, this was the final straw. A day he had wanted to spend in somber reflection he was being forced to be someone he wasn't. He was to spend having every single gesture and glance scrutinized and if he was lacking, the world might literally end. He wasn't supposed to be this important. He wasn't supposed to be anything. 

His final sober thought was that he should go to Iron Bull. He had made no secret of being very capable of domination, but Max wanted a stranger. He didn't want a guise of insincerity, a roleplay of danger. He wanted to be nothing. 

A few days later, he and his companions were traveling through some small town in Orlais on the way to some other mission or meeting or something. Max had snuck away from dinner, claiming he felt poorly, and found his way to a rundown tavern. He had barely gotten a few sentences out before a pair of men had understood what he was offering. Then blessedly, they followed him out into the alley. Max barely lowered his trousers before one had slicked himself with spit. Then the man threw him face first against the wall and entered him with one hard thrust.

Max choked back a scream as the stranger railed into him, raking his nails into his skin. The man leaned in, his breath against Max's throat.

He whispered in gasps, "That's right. Take it, take my cock."

The second hissed, "Shut it and hurry up. We've got to get back to the docks by eighth bell and I want my turn with him before someone hears us." 

The stranger's breath grew harder, his exertion clear as he found his finish as quickly as he could. His body slapped against Max's, his belt buckle smacking into his thigh. Max whimpered and the man's hand went to his mouth, covering it. 

The stranger sputtered inside of him, his thrusts hard and rapid. With a groan, he withdrew, leaving Max against the wall. Max barely could catch his breath before another man entered him, this one significantly larger. Max tried to look over his shoulder at him and only caught a glimpse before being hurled against the wall, his nose hitting the stone.

This second man grunted, forcing Max's thighs apart, spreading him as far as he could to accommodate his thick cock. Max whimpered, his own cock hard as stone, and his legs shaking. He wanted this. He had asked for this. But he was right on the edge. He was one wrong thrust away from dropping hard and breaking into tears. 

The first stranger, the one whose seed was already inside of him, leaned against the wall beside him. He nodded at the rutting man with an unaffected air. 

"If I loosened him too much for you, use his mouth," he commented coolly. 

The other replied, huffing, "I'm nearly done with him. Just give me a minute."

Max groaned and the first chuckled, "Poor little Ferelden slut. Not enough for you?"

Max shook his head and the second quickened his assault, shifting his cock in a way that made Max scream out loud. The first hissed in his ear, "You didn't cry like that for me, darling. I wasn't good enough for you, you filthy tramp?"

The second shuddered, his thrust losing their rhythm. He growled as he came, slamming into Max like a sledgehammer. As he withdrew, the first threw Max down on the ground and put his boot on his chest. Max looked up at him, fearfully.

"I want to watch," he hissed. "I want to see you get off in the mud like a sow. Go on. I can see you're close, slut, so pull down your pants and jerk off your pathetic little cock. Show me you've enjoyed yourself." 

Max did as he commanded, fearfully, not sure where this was going. He shot a look at the second, but he made no move to intervene. Max wasn't sure he could do it, but there was a real chance of danger if he didn't. Max had chosen poorly this time and it might cost him dearly.

Max fisted his cock, he tried to close his eyes but the first man pressed his boot harder into him and warned him to look straight at him. So Max did but he let his mind go to a familiar daydream, the one he went to when no other fantasy could do. 

Cullen. Not that last time, not that brutal deflowering. But the first time, just two young men, hiding under the sheets together, pressed so close they felt like one. Hands everywhere, mouths and lips on every inch of skin. It was like that but they were older, as old as he was now, and Cullen was inside of him, moving so gently with him, and whispering into his throat, "I love you. I'm sorry." 

Max shuddered as he finished, a sorry pathetic orgasm that did little for him but shoot his seed into his hand. The boot eased off his chest as the two men spoke to each other briefly in Orleasian before leaving Max alone in the dirt, crying.

Max wasn't sure how long he laid there before Dorian found him and dragged him back to the inn. Max came back to his senses in a warm bath with Dorian tenderly washing the cuts on his face. Max should have felt ashamed but he was too numb to feel anything. His first instinct was to tell Dorian it was consensual, that no one had done anything wrong, but Dorian simply asked softly, "Are you alright?"

"I asked for it," Max insisted, shocked at how tired he sounded. "They didn't hurt me. It just went darker than I thought it would. I thought I could handle it. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please don't tell anyone."

Dorian swallowed hard. "I won't, not if you don't want me to."

Max started crying again and Dorian kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away with his thumbs. Dorian smiled softly, almost fatherly, and Max's heart pained further. Dorian's tenderness was almost too much. He wanted Dorian to be disgusted with him, horrified at who the Inquisitor truly was. But instead Dorian was treating him like he was a beloved child. 

Max stayed in Dorian's bed that night, with his former employer being sent to sleep in elsewhere. Tiredly, Max told Dorian everything while Dorian nodded along, his brow furrowed in concern.

When Max had run out of words, Dorian finally said, "Max, I've had my share of unhealthy sex over the years. I've been in situations I never should have put myself in and taken lovers I wasn't safe with. So believe me when I say that this comes from no prudery on my behalf. You need to stop doing this. You are in a position of power and by that I don't mean you need to be perfect or everything they want you to be. I mean that you are more vulnerable now than you ever have been before. You are very lucky that you have survived unscathed from these encounters with strangers and now there are assassins after you. So many people depend on you and care about you and we need you. Don't throw yourself into danger because you don't think you deserve being loved. Believe me, I've been there before. I never thought...I thought I had no other choice than to take what scraps were thrown my way. But I've learned how wrong I was. There is a healthy way to do what you are interested in. As much as I hate to say it, talk to the Iron Bull. But please, for the Maker's sake, be careful. Please. My dear friend, I never want to see you like this again. I was so afraid and so angry I had let you out of my sight."

Max hated himself for breaking into tears again. Dorian hugged him and the pair fell asleep in each other's arms. Max woke at one point when Trevelyan entered the bed, complaining about Cassandra's snoring. Max only smiled weakly to himself before drifting off again. She looked like a snorer.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not a sport practiced by the nobility and so it had been first surprising to see the Inquisitor run. Every morning without fail, Max spent at least in hour in his training gear, carefully and intentionally running in near perfect form. At Haven, he had ran beside the soldiers, most of them having no idea who he was. Now that he was Inquisitor, Max ran alone, grateful for a chance at quiet. 

Or at least, it had been quiet, before Cassandra had decided to join him. 

"On your left," she warned, barely huffing.

The Seeker passed him and Max rolled his eyes. She had overlapped him twice now. He pretended he was just going for endurance rather than speed but she would have wiped the floor with him either way. He was just lucky it was just her. Aveline was also a runner but she trained alongside her men, still barking out orders like her lungs hadn't even noticed they were exercising. 

It was two weeks after Dorian had found him in the street and Cassandra had rarely left his side since. She had jogged along side him the first morning, the pair of them in companionable silence alongside a river. Now back at Skyhold, she had joined him on his usual route on the parapets daily and within a week she had been already destroying him at his life long sport. He tried to comfort himself with the knowledge she was probably ruining her knees going that fast, but it wasn't much of one. He knew he should be more grateful. This was how she was showing affection and making sure he wasn't going to do something stupid. Dorian was the same way, except his was forcing Max to take up this weird stretching meditation thing that sounded like garbage but was pleasant enough if he didn't take it seriously. At least they weren't talking about feelings. Maker, Trevelyan and Iron Bull only ever wanted to talk about feelings. They were always asking him how he was doing. It was the worst.

Max saw Cassandra stopped ahead and he felt almost gleeful running towards her, prepared to quip back, "On _your_ left." However his face fell when he saw the person in front of her. Leliana. The spymaster looked just as somber when Max caught up to them. Max glanced up at Cassandra, who looked irate. 

"What's going on?" Max asked, attempting to catch his breath.

Leliana explained, "We think we may have a lead in finding the missing Seekers. My spies say that several of Order have been seen in Bann Loren's lands and that there have been Red Templars near Caer Oswin. One report claims to have seen Lord Seeker Lucius himself."

"We must go to them," Cassandra insisted. "Now." 

Max agreed, "We'll go on horseback. Small team, stealth operation. We'll just get what information we can and we get out. We don't want to go barreling in with an army and scare them off. Okay?"

Cassandra hesitated and then agreed, "Okay."

Max thought about asking if he had time enough to hit the baths first but from the look of her face, he knew he should head straight to the stables.

*****

After battling their way through Cassandra's personal hell, they had found themselves at the summit of the castle. Lord Seeker Lucius revealed his nefarious scheme and Max watched Cassandra's heart break. This was not the answer she had been hoping to find but it was the battle she was ready for.

Without words, they took their stances. Cassandra on the offensive, Max on the defensive. He was there to block strikes against Dorian and Sera while Cassandra went on a rampage. There were enough soldiers to keep Max busy enough but few enough to let Cassandra face down her foe alone. 

But then Lucius fell and Cassandra stumbled to her knees, screaming in anguish. The remaining soldiers started running and Sera chased after them with a giddy scream. Dorian chased after her, desperately attempting to keep a barrier on her. 

Max went to Cassandra, putting his hand on her shoulder. She placed her hand over his and she broke into sobs. She was physically injured but her grief ran deeper than the gash in her shoulder. 

Max heard footsteps and he turned, looking back through the fog to the castle. He saw an outline of a figure, marching slowly towards them. Cassandra saw it too and rose to her feet, gripping onto Max's shield arm.

A knight in pure black armor emerged, its helm down. It held out a long obsidian sword and a shield that absorbed all light around it. 

Cassandra whispered, "No, it cannot be."

Max lifted up his shield and stepped in front of Cassandra. 

"Get Dorian and Sera and get out of here," Max ordered. "I've got this."

"No," Cassandra refused. "I still have strength enough for this."

Cassandra stepped forward, sinking into a strong stance. Max did the same, ready to cover her flank. And then the knight swung its great blade and it hit Cassandra hard. She crumpled to the ground. Max cried out for her but Cassandra did not move.

Max swung out his own sword and the knight grabbed the blade, squeezing its hand down around it until it shattered. Max let go and threw himself to the ground, grabbing his shield. He heaved it in front of him, blocking the knight's next blow. Max jumped to his feet and thrust the shield outwards, forcing the knight back a step. Max threw his entire weight into his shield, thrusting up against the knight's shoulder, hoping to loosen his grip on his sword. Instead the knight stood firm and Max only succeeded in knocking himself on his back. He lifted the shield up, blocking another hit, but jumping to his feet a second time. Max panted, matching each blow with his shield, moving them towards the edge of the cliff, which was barely blocked off by a low stone wall. 

Seeing a loose stone, Max dove down, grabbed it and chucked it at the knight's head. He missed and he backed towards the wall, his hand going out to touch it. It went just past his hip. If the knight ran at him, he could leverage both their weight over the wall. If he was going down, he was taking this thing with him. Whatever could shatter steel with its hand was not going to get to live.

The knight held its sword tight as it bore it down on Max. Max held out his shield with one arm, bracing against the wall with the other. One more hit, one good hit, and Max could swing them over. He was going to only get one chance at this. 

Max threw his weight behind the shield once more, pushing the knight back. He gripped the wall tightly, braced his legs, and when the knight struck, Max heaved them over the side. 

Max grasped onto the wall with both hands but the knight grabbed his ankle. Max tried to kick him off but the knight dug its blade into the cliff side, sliding until it hit rock and stopped. Max looked down. They were close enough to the ground that there was a slim chance he'd live if he fell. He had a sense that this height was nothing to the creature now digging its way up to him.

Max swore before attempting to pull himself up. If he got up, he could run. Or even better, he could kick it over the edge and fire it full of arrows before it even thought about getting back up again. Or bees. Where were Sera and her bees when he needed them?

Max yelped as the knight grabbed him and yanked him down. Max fell past him, hitting the cliff hard before hanging by his ankle, the knight staring down at him. Max's helm had fallen off and he cursed again. There went his chance of surviving the fall.

But the knight didn't drop him. It didn't move upwards either. It just stared at him. 

Just then a rope ladder rolled down over the edge and Max jumped for it, the knight crushing his ankle in its hand. Max cried out in pain but managed to get out of the way of the flaming grenade headed towards the knight. The knight let go of its sword and let itself fall to the ground, hitting the earth just before fire exploded around it. Max held on tight as the ladder was dragged upwards. 

He made it over the top and Sera pulled him over the wall, apologizing for being late, giving some sort of explanation that Max was in too much pain to hear. Dorian rushed over to him and gave him something sickly to drink while he tried to ease Max's boot off his foot before it swelled too much.

Max looked over to see Cassandra at the edge of the wall, watching the fire. Max couldn't recognize the expression on her face. Fear, maybe, but something that bordered on resignation. Cassandra's eyes met his and he saw how badly she had been hurt. Cassandra had been in rough shape to begin with, but one single blow had been enough to knock her out cold. How had Max had been able to survive? 

That thing had him; it should have just dropped him. The fall would have ended him. Not that he needed it. The knight had destroyed a sword in a leather-clad hand. He had shattered Max's ankle just by trying to hold on to it. 

"What the hell was that thing?" Max demanded.

Cassandra confessed, "I do not know."

Dorian left Max and went back to Cassandra, helping her to her feet. Sera went over to assist him and the pair worked on the warrior's wounds. Max lay on his back, trying to calm his racing heart. He placed his hand on his chest and froze. The coin. The coin was gone. His panic grew worse and he started hyperventilating. A second later Sera was at his side, trying to coax him into breathing while Dorian examined him for signs of shock. Max heard briefly that they had sent for help but he was already too far gone to comprehend it. He had carried that thing through the Blight. He had carried it in battle a near hundred times. He had fought in the Grand Tourney with it sown into his pocket. Now? Now was when he lost it? 

A sharp slap landed across his face and he raised his hand up to block Sera from hitting him again.

She said, "Sorry, yeah, but we've gotta go. More of those things coming. Lean on me and we'll steal one of their horses, right?"

Right. The problem with being inexplicably alive meant he had to keep attempting to stay alive. He couldn't freeze now. Cullen wouldn't have wanted him to die because he was freaking out about losing a token. Max got to his feet and Sera threw his arm around her shoulder. They needed to get out of there. 

*****

Max's ankle was weak but it was already healing quickly after a lot of magic and a lotion of potions. He kept it still bound and used a stick to support himself but he knew he'd be able to return to the field by the end of the week. It was the nuisance of serving with mages. One got better far too quickly. 

After an uncomfortable two days on horseback, they arrived at Skyhold. Cassandra had remained stoic throughout the journey and Max had assumed she was grieving for her lost companions. Now her eyes were alit with ire. Not grieving. Seething. She did not speak to Max, but marched towards the aerie, ignoring the healers that trailed after her. 

Max felt the hair prick on the back of his neck and he turned, feeling Cole's presence before the boy appeared at his side. 

"You can't feed him," Cole whispered. "He is hungry, but you can't feed him."

Max frowned. "Who? Who is hungry?" 

"The knight in black. He is hungry for the things they give him. Blood for blood. Inquisitor, you can't feed him. He will devour you. He will kill you." 

Max asked, "Cole, what do you mean? Who is he? Do you know the knight in black?"

Both of them looked up, hearing Aveline's shouting even from the courtyard. Cole disappeared and Max sighed, making his way up the steps. It seemed there would be no nap after all. 

****

"When I agreed to join the Inquisition, you both made a vow to me," Aveline demanded. "No secrets. Not now, not ever. You swore it." 

Cassandra shot a look at Leliana. "I was under the impression that there was nothing to tell. I thought it had been dealt with."

Leliana sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "I thought it had been too. Please, all of you, sit down."

Max was already sitting, his foot propped up on a chair. Cassandra was also at rest, her sword arm now in a sling. Josephine sat beside Max but Aveline remained standing, still fuming at Leliana.

Leliana sighed at Aveline's stance and then began to explain, "Fourteen years ago, the Divine received a research proposal from the Neverran Circle. They had been studying mortals who shared their bodies with virtuous spirits. There had been instances of mortals who could use the powers of these spirits in the physical plane because of this bond and these researchers suggested that this phenomenon be studied closer and that perhaps it could be use to help Templars augment their powers against mages. At the time, little was paid attention to it, since spirits of virtue are so rare. But it arose again just before the Blight, this time suggesting that the same idea could be applied to demons. A mortal could bond with a demon, gain power over it, and use that power for good."

"They wanted Templars to become willingly possessed and then use those demons as allies?" Max asked in surprise. "So when the Tower of Magi fell and everyone got possessed they must have realized what a shitty idea that was, right?"

Cassandra and Leliana shared a long, tired look and Max pleaded, "Right?" 

Leliana murmured almost apologetically, "No, Inquisitor. There were...survivors. Multiple Templar survivors who had either managed to resist possession or develop a relationship with the demon inhabiting them. When the Hero of Ferelden advocated for their release, the Chantry decided to take them into protective custody, promising to rehabilitate them."

Cassandra interrupted angrily, "Except they didn't, did they, Spymaster?" 

Leliana confessed, "No, they didn't. There were ten of them. Ten Templars who were experimented on by these Nevarran researchers. Each was subjected to multiple possessions and then exorcised again and again until they were able to develop a stable bond. It took them eight months to stabilize a single subject and after another year the rest were...eliminated. The survivor was trained to be a living weapon, assassins that could be sent out against the Chantry's enemies. It was a reaver with demonic strength. It was controlled by its dependency on lyrium, Templar and demon both. It was an agent of destruction. The Chantry tried to use them in Kirkwall. It always accomplished its missions and it always left a great deal of destruction in its wake."

Aveline covered her mouth with her hand, either to stop from vomiting or stop from yelling at them. Maybe both. Likely both. 

Leliana continued, "When the Chantry failed to stop the mage rebellion, the Divine called for the assassin to be destroyed."

"As I thought it was," Cassandra hissed through gritted teeth.

Leliana swallowed hard. "The Divine secretly ordered me to put it aside, to be frozen deep underground if there was ever a time that it was needed. I thought it would spend eternity in an endless sleep, like an animal in hibernation. I called it the Winter Soldier. When word came of your assailant at the Caer, I sent my people to find it but...it was already gone and all that was found were shards of red lyrium."

Aveline gritted her teeth. "Samson." 

Leliana agreed, "Yes, it is likely Samson who now holds its leash. I do not know how he knew about it. Only I, the Divine, and a single mage knew."

"You trust this mage?" Max questioned.

"With my life," Leliana assured. "She would not betray me."

"It doesn't matter," Cassandra growled. "You lied to me. You told me it was neutralized. You told me it wasn't a threat anymore."

They argued and Max's heart sank. Poor person, whoever they were. He might have even known them. Most people he trained with were stationed at Kinloch. What poor creature had survived all those horrors only to be tortured by their own people? Max had been grateful that Cullen had died before he could become a Red Templar. What a mercy that he had avoided this fate as well. 

Wait.

Max was hanging by his ankle again, looking up at his captor. Max's helm discarded, his face visible. Was that why the Winter Soldier had faltered? Had it recognized him? Had some glimmer of its humanity flicker to the surface then? Was that how Max had survived?

A second more traitorous thought emerged but Max tried to push it away. Cullen was dead. His body had been brought back to his family. Mia herself had written to him. She had been the one to send the letter, the one in his pocket when his body was found. Cullen was dead. 

But he still looked up at Leliana and her gaze had grown sorrowful. It wasn't regret that now streaked her face. It was pity. 

Leliana said gently, "Inquisitor...he is barely human anymore. He is controlled only through lyrium and blood and he will do whatever his master bids him for more. He remembers nothing before the torture. He is not the man he once was."

 _He._ She had used it before. Before it had been an object, a force of nature. Now the Winter Soldier was human. Now it was a man. 

Leliana knew. And she knew Max had figured it out. Was she leaving it up to him to acknowledge it? Or was Max reading into something that wasn't there? He couldn't ask. He'd sound like a fool if he was wrong and of course he had to be wrong. Cullen was dead. 

Cassandra agreed, "Whatever it is now, it is not mortal. It must be stopped. Samson cannot be allowed to possess such a weapon. We must find this assassin and we must destroy it."

Leliana's eyes did not leave Max's and he felt like he was going to be sick. The meeting continued and Max could barely parse what they were saying. He just nodded along, trusting his advisors to make the right decisions. Eventually they began to excuse themselves and Max asked Leliana to stay behind.

Once they were alone, Max asked hoarsely, "How long have you known? How long have you known who he was? Who he was to me?"

Leliana admitted, "I knew who he was from the beginning. I had met him during the Blight, near out of his mind after weeks of torture. It would be hard not to forget his face. I knew the name even if the records had been destroyed. But I did not know about your relationship with him before you became the Herald. When I reached out to my people to find out what they could about you, I had heard that you had been quite close to another recruit and that he had died when the Hold was taken. I was not sure. I suspected, but I was not sure and I did not think it was wise to tell you. There was nothing you could do for him."

Max's voice broke as he held back his tears. "I could have helped him. I could have kept him from Samson. I could have kept him safe. I could have just...how could you not tell me? How could you know he was alive and not tell me?"

Leliana replied, "I saw those who were experimented on during my time with the Divine. I have fought darkspawn with no more than a dagger but it is those Templars that haunt me most at night. If I had risked waking him, he would always be a danger to you. There would be nothing stopping him from killing you." 

"He knew me," Max protested. "I know he did. He saw me and he stopped."

Leliana's voice softened. "There may be echoes of him still in that shell but it is only a shell now. You may have gained a moment's hesitation but he will not hesitate again. If he has been sent to kill you, then he will kill you, unless my people kill him first." 

Max wanted to refuse her but he knew there was no argument to be made. He hung his head and Leliana started to walk away. At the doorway she paused and looked back to Max.

Leliana murmured, "For what it is worth, I am sorry, Inquisitor."

She said nothing else, leaving Max with his head in his hands. He didn't start crying until she closed the door behind her, leaving him alone with his ghosts. 

****

Max was supposed to stay off his feet for a few more days but he bound it tightly and went for a run the next dawn. After a few passes of Skyhold, his ankle beginning to swell, he reluctantly sat down, resting against the wall of the parapet. 

He heard someone calling him and he looked up to see Cassandra in her training fatigues.

"You shouldn't be exercising yet," she lectured.

Max smirked. "Neither should you."

Cassandra offered her hand and practically picked him up off his feet. She started a light jog and he matched her pace, nearly in stride with her despite their height difference. His breathing eased into her rhythm, just like it did in battle.

They didn't speak again. They didn't need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max is born out of the AUs I've seen online of tiny Steve Rogers keeping his original size but having all his post-serum powers. We need more of those because they're amazing.


	3. Chapter 3

A week passed and the only news that came of the Winter Soldier was an intercepted missive from Samson to an underling. In it, it was confirmed that the Soldier was now tracking the Inquisitor as well as Cassandra and that if any field agents came across the assassin, they were not to constrain him and let him complete his mission. Cassandra was flattered that she had been the original target but to her credit did not gloat too much. 

Then there were only two weeks left before the diplomatic talks were to be held in Orlais. Max couldn't put off this trip any longer, not with all the meetings he had been scheduled for. Dorian had promised him that this was a good thing and that this trip would keep him focused. But Max had also overheard Dorian pleading with Cassandra to make sure Max didn't do anything rash. Max knew exactly what that meant. He wasn't a fool. He knew why Cassandra ran with him daily, why Dorian dined with him most nights, and the rest of his friends were constantly asking how he was feeling. 

Max had ended up in the mud just from the thought of dealing with the tenth anniversary of his childhood sweetheart's death on the same night as the ball. Who knew what sort of risky behaviour he'd get up to now actually at the ball while his actually alive ex-boyfriend was now a brainwashed assassin plotting to kill him. That would be too much for anyone, never mind their delicate flower of a leader. 

But Max had spent years by Lord Trevelyan's side and he had picked up a surprising amount of etiquette and courtesy. He went to dinners and salons and did everything Josephine asked of him. He smiled and acted pretty, pretending to be flirty and charming and everything he was expected to be. He almost started to believe he was actually okay, that he wasn't as fazed about all of this as he should be. Part of it was apathy. Max didn't give a shit about any of this. He just wanted to get his people back home safe. 

Two nights before the ball, Max was settling in after yet another dinner party. He was a little drunk, a professional hazard of being a light-weight in a nation of recreational alcoholics. He liked the estate they had been at all week, a holiday home that they had borrowed from a noble lord who had left the country until the civil war was over. There was plenty of room for everyone who had come from Skyhold and for the visitors who were too inebriated to find themselves back home. 

Max's own room was fairly small but warm and comfortable. He had sincerely enjoyed his nights by the fireplace, reading a book and drinking plenty of water to combat the wine. He had stripped out of his finery and was now in a fluffy robe that smelled like lavender. He was starting to drift off when he heard a knock at the door. 

Max got up, wrapping the robe tighter around him. He opened the door to find Aveline on the other side, suited in full armour. 

Max asked, "Everything okay?"

"No. You should get dressed and arm yourself, Inquisitor," she instructed quietly. "I'll wait here to guard the door while you do so."

Max sighed, letting her in before closing the door. He threw on his traveling leathers over his nightclothes and grabbed his shield from a chair. He had just strapped it in before Aveline took his arm and led him out into the hallway.

Aveline briefed him as they walked down to the courtyard. 

"I've had one of our people posted with the Guard as an observer. He came to me just a few minutes ago. There has been a bomb discovered in the Ash Quarter's Chantry," she informed. "One of the Sisters went to the City Guard but the rest of the Sisters have refused to let them enter. Apparently they have been providing dozens of war refugees with sanctuary and fear once the Guard enters, they will arrest them." 

"Will they?" Max asked.

Aveline admitted, "Likely. It may have even been one of them who planted the bomb, as much as I'd hope not."

Max questioned, "Are we sure this isn't an elven uprising? Didn't one of our people say there was a convention or a gathering or something of the Dalish in the city?"

"Arlathvhen," Aveline corrected, "and no, I do not think that is likely. The elven population has been heavily watched in the weeks preceding the peace talks. They would be incredibly foolish to make such a move like this."

"I don't know. If I was a Dalish elf, I'd be pretty pissed off at the Chantry too," Max commented, "and it seemed to get everyone's attention in Kirkwall."

He caught himself, immediately apologizing for his insensitivity but Aveline continued, "The Chantry Sisters have agreed for the Inquisitor inside to investigate as a third and neutral party. I suggest that you honour their trust in you. I saw the "success" in Kirkwall. Believe me when I say that we do not want that here." 

They arrived shortly outside a decrepit building, a Chantry clearly built by the lay people and rebuilt again and again. City guards surrounded it, but at seeing him they backed away slightly, creating a path for Max. He put his hands up as he walked through them, no weapon but the shield on his back. He reached the door where a pair of Chantry sisters stood, arms linked, blocking the door from the guards. At seeing Max, they eased and let him through.

The sanctuary itself was simple, less elaborate than anything else he had seen in this country. The first two rows of pews near the door were full of elves, holding their loved ones close. After that there was no one until the great flame. There a little girl stood, a bomb in her hands, her sobbing mother standing a few feet away. 

Max walked very slowly towards her. She stayed perfectly still, watching him fearfully. Once he reached her, he knelt before the little girl and in terrible elven asked, "Are you alright?" 

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. 

"I know this is very scary, but I'm here," Max assured. "You're not alone. We're going to figure this out together, okay?"

She shivered, shifting slightly. Max held his breath, silently willing her to stay still. 

Max said softly, "It's okay. I'm going to put my hands out under yours and we'll count to three. When we say three, you're going to slide your hands out. I'll hold the ball for you. Then walk very, very slowly to your mother. Okay?"

Max cupped her tiny hands in his own. He breathed out slowly, getting her to mimic him. They counted together slowly and when he said three, she let go, letting the bomb sink into Max's palms. The girl walked backwards slowly until she reached her mother, who took her into her arms. 

Max let out a shaky breath and instructed the mother, "Walk very carefully to the doors and ask the Sisters to allow in my General. Please."

Max looked at the device, panic starting to sink in. He had no idea how these things detonated. It could have a timed mechanism, it could be pressure based, it could be anything. The main thing was to disarm it and get as far from here as possible. 

He examined it visually before frowning and leaning in. It didn't smell like gaatlock or whatever those Qunari called it. It didn't smell like manure. It didn't smell like much of anything. And he couldn't hear any ticks or anything else that would suggest something mechanical happening. It felt hot but it wasn't burning his hands. 

Aveline was soon at his side. She offered to take it, but he shook his head.

"No," he refused. "I've got it. Send word back to the Estate. I want our people to escort these refugees to safety. No city guard is to take a single one of them into custody. And get Varric. He's probably the person who knows the most about explosions. I'll need his help."

"Are you sure?" Aveline asked. "You're steady?"

Max nodded. "Go."

Max took another deep breath as she did as he asked. He kept his eyes on the bomb, very aware of how close he was to the flame. It was a miracle the thing hadn't gone off in the first place. Sweat dripped down the side of his face but he made no move to wipe it away. He held still as the grave, focusing on his breathing. It had taken them less than five minutes to walk there. Ten minutes at the most. He could handle ten minutes. It was just like being in prayer hall as a teenager, staying in the same position as part of his piety, staying perfectly still. 

His hand glowed for a moment but Max focused, keeping the mark at ease. He didn't need to accidentally open a rift and chuck the bomb elsewhere. Or somehow use the magic to set the thing off.

He focused on that image of the prayer hall in Ferelden. He had never been devout enough to kneel like that for an hour just out of faith. He had made a game of it. Tensing every muscle he could, one at a time, and letting go. How much could he move without moving at all? It was in part to make sure his blood kept circulating but it made him very aware of his body. Of the space it took up, how it moved. He understood its strengths and its limits.

After a time, the doors opened and Max heard his people guiding the elves out of the building. One of them, someone who worked under Leliana, knelt beside him and told him that they were still looking for Varric but they had called for another craftsmen in town and hopefully she would arrive shortly. The agent asked if Max needed a break but he gave his head the slightest shake.

"I've got it," he murmured. "Just get them out safe."

The evacuation ended and Max heard Aveline's voice outside, upset that no one had come yet to disable the bomb. Max's arms were starting to shake and he risked shifting position slightly, resting closer to the ground. He tried to return to his breath but he was finding it harder and harder to relax. 

He heard someone enter the room but from the wrong way. Had someone been left behind? He looked up and froze, seeing the black knight walking towards him, coolly, casually, as if the world might not explode around them. The knight drew his sword and stopped inches from him. The Winter Soldier pressed the tip of his blade into Max's throat but did not strike.

Max looked at him and pleaded, "Wait. Just wait a little longer. This could kill both of us if I fall. Just wait. Please."

And to Max's shock, the Soldier took the bomb from his hands and put it in the crook of his own arm. The Soldier left hurriedly the way it had come and Max stood, stumbling as the blood returned to his legs. He chased the Soldier out of the sanctuary and up the stairs through the Sister's quarters and further up flights until he saw the assassin enter the belltower. 

Max grabbed his shield, holding it in front of him as he ran up those narrow spiraled steps. Once he reached the top, the Soldier lowered the bomb to the ground and stood transfixed, watching Max without emotion. Max looked into his eyes for the first time in over a decade. It was him. It was Cullen.

And by the loud ticking Max heard, that bomb was now activated. 

Cullen warned in slow guttural syllables, "You need to go."

It was the first time he had heard his voice in a decade and it sounded nothing like he had remembered. It sounded like it belonged to a stranger. 

Max swore, "No, not without you."

Cullen stepped forward, his arm reaching towards him, fingers brushing against him. Max walked into his touch, letting the fingers envelop his throat. 

Max murmured, "Do it."

Max tossed his shield aside and it fell down the bell tower, tapping against each, each booming louder with the weight of what Max had done. 

Max stepped closer, his face a breath from his.

Max insisted, "Do it then. Kill me."

Cullen looked harrowed, exhausted, and for a moment looked even human. He had given him a chance to live. What inner turmoil was he in to allow that? Was he fighting the demon? Was he winning?

The ticking grew faster and Cullen pushed him towards the stairs. Max resisted and Cullen grabbed his shirt and hoisted him over the railing. 

Cullen kissed him, harsh and fast, and then he let go.


	4. Chapter 4

Max woke in bed, Dorian sitting beside him. Max tried to sit up but Dorian gently led him to lie back down. Aveline stood nearby, her brow wrinkled into a deep frown. 

"The healers just removed shrapnel from just below your stomach," Dorian warned. "You're going to want to keep that area flat for awhile."

"What happened?" Max asked weakly.

Dorian explained, "From what Varric can tell, you managed to disable two of the four chambers in the bomb from the bell tower. Between the location and your efforts, you localized the explosion to the upper half of the Chantry. It is a miracle you survived. The fall alone should have killed you, never mind the blast." 

Max remembered falling. A hundred feet. Maybe more. He had grabbed a rope from one of the bells, it had burnt his hands on the way down. Then deafening noise and then hot metal shredding through him. Then falling. Falling. 

It should have killed him. It nearly had. But if he had stayed at the summit of the tower, he would have been killed outright in the blast. The Soldier had tried to save him in the only way the demon would let him. And he had stayed behind to try to disable the bomb? But he hadn't finished. 

Max asked hoarsely, "Did you find anyone else?" 

"No," Aveline confirmed, "but my people tracked the Winter Soldier leaving the Chantry. We lost him just north of the city. It is likely he was the one who planted the bomb. He's still out there and we cannot afford to have him on the loose during the peace talks." 

No, probably not. They had heard rumours of an assassination attempt at the ball and an incredibly deadly assassin was running around town doing - well, what exactly was Cullen doing at the Chantry? Ostensibly to kill him while he was unable to fight back but Max had offered himself willingly to him and Cullen had let him live and even tried to save him. Surely it was him who tried to disarm the bomb or the original planters had done a terrible job priming it. 

Max had seen Cullen's eyes. He had seen the pain in them. He was still in there. He had known him. He had kissed him. 

Max said quietly, "I'd like to talk to Cassandra, if she's nearby. Alone, please."

They left and a few moments later Cassandra entered. She sat by his bedside and took her hand in his. They smiled at each other weakly as she questioned his wellbeing and he assured her that he was all right. 

Max swallowed hard. "There's something I have to tell you. About the Winter Soldier. About what happened last night."

So Max shared the story, all of it, as Cassandra listened. Her expression shifted a dozen times but he couldn't read her. 

Max concluded softly, "He kissed me before he dropped me. I think some part of him remembers me. He fought the demon off, just long enough not to break my neck, but he managed to. I think he's still in there, Cassandra. And if there's any chance he is, I can't kill him. And I won't let anyone else either."

Cassandra sighed. "No, I can understand that but...but there are more important things at stake. You have responsibilities. I..."

Max put his hand on her arm and pleaded, "Cass. I love him. I can't let him suffer like this. I need to help him. He would do the same for me, without question. He needs me. And I need him."

Cassandra put her hand over his and said quietly, "He is going to kill you. That is what he has been programmed to do. He didn't drop you. He threw you to your death. I don't think he's the type of man you save, Max. I think he's the type you stop. And if we don't stop him, you are going to die."

Max barely stopped himself from admitting, _I don't care._ Cassandra's face fell all the same and he wondered if he had said it aloud.

Cassandra squeezed his hand tightly. "I am with you, Inquisitor, in all things. Whatever Void you walk through, I will walk beside you."

"Even if I choose to chase a ghost?" 

Cassandra nodded solemnly. "Even then. But I will not serve a ghost. I will you keep you alive, Inquisitor, even if there comes a day you wish I hadn't."

The door opened and his other advisors came in to update him on the peace talks. Cassandra took her hands away but she still sat protectively beside him. 

***** 

Max was not in great shape by the time he was readying for the ball. Dorian had helped him dress, giving him a last minute lesson on decorum. Max was still a little weak on his feet and Cassandra gave him her arm, leading him into the palace herself. Max was supposed to be escorted by Gaspard of course but the man seemed disgusted by having such close contact with a man. 

It was a strange introduction to court. The Inquisitor was on the arm of a taller, older, more muscular woman who looked like she'd destroy anyone who stared at them too long. The Inquisitor himself was not particularly impressive looking, less so with his slow gait and clearly pained expression. Yet everyone had heard of what he had done, what they thought he had done, and he was being viewed with more than a little awe.

Max felt like a fraud. He wasn't a hero. He had thrown his shield away. He had offered his own throat. 

After his introduction, the rest of his party did most of the socializing. Trevelyan kept his arm around Dorian's waist all night, making a quiet romantic if not terribly scandalous statement. Cassandra stayed near to Max but even she was forced into catching up with distant cousins. Max danced with many, dozens of people wanting something from him, but he was unmoved. He didn't care. But he smiled politely and thanked each for the dance.

Another masked stranger swapped for another and before Max could offer a greeting, she warned in a quiet hiss, "Do not call for your guard, Inquisitor. I have a message from my liege that you will wish to hear."

Max's blood chilled. "I'm listening."

"It seems as if your little act of heroism in the Chantry thwarted our scheme to keep Briala out of the way tonight. You even survived the Winter Soldier's attempt on your life. It is remarkable. One might say even miraculous. The Soldier does not fail and the Soldier does not run. And yet he did both after so long. It seems that the noble, fair-hearted Inquisitor can tame even the wildest of beasts. Or is it that even the most heroic of men can be felled by love?"

Max interrogated, "Is he here tonight? Is he to assassinate the empress?" 

The agent replied, "All you have to do is look away, Inquisitor. Let Celene fall. Let your assassin redeem himself. And then he is all yours to do with what you like. But if he fails his task a second time, my master will not be so kind. The Winter Soldier is not so easily killed, but he is deep down just a man. Men can be tortured, maimed, destroyed. Tell me, would you still want him in your bed if he was missing his shield arm?"

Max reached for the agent's collar but she smirked. "You have your reputation to consider, Inquisitor. Will you risk everything you have gained by attacking someone on the dance floor? No, surely not. I will not trouble you further. You know what is on offer. Choose wisely. This offer will not come again."

The agent left and Max rushed to Leliana, nearly barking out instructions to have her followed, but she grasped his arms and insisted that he calm. Max tried to remember why they were there, why he had to play this game the way he did. But Cullen was here, somewhere, and he was about to kill the Empress. In theory. And if he didn't, he would be killed. Max couldn't let either happen. 

Or could he? Could he let the Empress die so Cullen could live?

Max had known, somewhere deep down, that he would do anything for him. He would lie for him, steal for him, kill for him. But he had thought that in a hypothetical way, as a truth that most lovers feel without ever having to act on it. It was one thing for Max to have given himself up to him, to be willing to die in his arms. But this wasn't his life. It was another human being's. And it was war. There would be more bloodshed if Celene died. It wasn't about him and Cullen. It was about the rest of the world.

Despite all his moralizing, Max came to a sudden sickening conclusion. He was going to save Celene, but it wasn't because he couldn't be tempted to do the wrong thing. He was perfectly capable of letting her die. It wasn't that he wasn't strong enough to be selfish but that he was actively choosing not to be. He was choosing her safety over Cullen's not as the default option but as a sacrifice. 

"Protect Celene," Max said finally. "Protect her at any cost."

His people went off to do as instructed and Max stumbled to the wall. He leaned against it, keeping his hand on his chest to steady his heart. He needed to keep it together. He had to find Cullen. He had to find him and get him away from there before Corpheyus' people realized he had failed.

Max collected himself before lowering his mask once more. He went out into the courtyard and walked the perimeter, smiling and chatting with anyone who glanced his way. He scanned for hiding places as he went. While Cullen was capable of rushing in and murdering Celene, it seemed unlikely. He was trained as an assassin. Assassins hid.

Max tried to be sly looking around the palace but he could feel people staring at him whenever he tried to sneak into a more secluded place. He eventually made his way to the library and began to look around. It was close to the ballroom but it was devoid of people. From here, he could make his way through the guest quarters. Someone would notice his absence if he was gone too long so he would have to do it all quickly. 

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard a cool voice murmur, "You are not dead." 

Max turned around and saw Cullen a few steps away from him. He was dressed in black and he wore an equally dark mask. But Max could still see his eyes. 

"No, I'm not," Max agreed. "I'd say besides your best efforts, but I think we both know you weren't trying very hard last time."

Cullen took the bow from his back and readied an arrow. 

He stated, "I failed in letting you live. I will not do so a second time."

"So why are you still talking to me?" Max questioned. "I'm wearing velvet and I don't even have a nail file on me. You could just snap my neck and be done with it."

Cullen frowned. "Do you want me to kill you?"

Max replied, "No, but I want to know why you haven't yet."

Max went down the stairs and stood on the last step, keeping eye level with him. 

Cullen's jaw clenched. "You are not my mission tonight. Go."

"I can't do that," Max refused. "I'm not letting you kill the Empress."

"Then I have no choice."

"But you do," Max insisted. "You're making one right now, every moment we're talking together. You don't need to do this. We can go. We can leave right now."

Max swore he saw a flash of red in Cullen's eyes as the assassin's hand trembled, the bow only weakly in his grasp. Max tried to take it from him before Cullen threw him to the ground. Max fell onto his back, and Cullen drew his bow again, aiming the arrow at Max's heart.

Max's voice shook as he pleaded, "Come with me, Cullen. I can protect you. I can keep you safe. It'll be okay. Just put down the bow. We'll run away together, like we dreamed we would when we were young. Just you and me. You can fight this. You can get better. Please. Please, just put down the bow."

"I will not fail another mission," Cullen said coolly.

The rational part of Max's mind wanted to argue further, but instead he began to ramble, tears streaming down his face. 

"After the Battle of Denerim, I went to Honnleath," Max confessed rapidly. "I wanted to see where they had buried you. I wanted to say goodbye. I meant to be there only a day or two but Mia, your sister, asked me to stay for a while longer. Your parents were both gone, your younger siblings barely of age, and she was overwhelmed. Everyone had lost so much. They were rebuilding their home and she needed another pair of hands. I lived with your family for three months before I couldn't handle seeing them anymore. Your brother looks just like you. And your younger sister, Rose, she has your smile. Mia wrote to me all the time after I left and sometimes I wrote her back. She never gave up on me. I think she thought that if I kept living, some part of you would too."

Cullen's grasp remained just as firm, his eyes just as determined.

Max whispered, "I haven't told her. That you're alive. If...if someday you get better, if someday you get free, go home. Go see them. And tell Mia, tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I love you, Cullen. I really, really love you. It's okay. It's okay. I love you. I forgive you. It's okay."

"What are you doing here? You were supposed to be in the vestibule five minutes ago, you stupid Ferelden dog."

Max forced himself to look away to see Florianne a few paces away. She crossed her arms and dramatically sighed. 

In mock pity, Florianne said,"Oh, Inquisitor. There are so few good dance partners in this world. A great pity. Will you finish him or should I? Well, mabari? Are you finished playing with your-"

Florianne could no longer speak with Cullen's arrow now embedded in her throat. Max rose to his elbows as Cullen strode over to Florianne, took out his dagger, and plunged it into her chest. He let her fall to the ground as he went back to Max, offering his hand. Max took it in shock, letting Cullen help him to his feet. Max saw the flash of red again and Cullen's hand gripped his too hard. Max flinched as Cullen let go, pressing his hands to his head. The Winter Soldier let out a soft, near inaudible whimper before returning to his unaffected air.

"Go," Cullen ordered. "No one else will complete my mission. She will live."

Cullen left, climbing out the window. Max went to Florianne's body, kneeling down to examine her. He searched her pockets for anything that might be useful but found nothing. He froze, hearing a scream. He grabbed Florianne's bow and raced down the stairs and into the guest quarters. He readied an arrow, walking forward slowly. He heard more screaming and he quickened his pace, heading down into the dining hall. He saw a flash of something out of the corner of his eye and he turned, ready to shoot. Instead he saw a mangled corpse on the ground, blood pouring from their snapped off jaw. 

Max saw another shadow move and he turned, this time seeing...Maker, he wasn't sure what he was seeing. He had no words to describe it except as death incarnate.   
Max couldn't move and let death pass over him, letting it spare his life while it took those of his enemies. All he could smell was iron.

*****

Max reached his advisors just as the Empress finished her speech thanking the Inquisition. Cassandra went to him, grasping his arm. 

"Our forces were fighting Samson's people when the black knight appeared," Cassandra explained, her face almost pale in shock. "He fought as he did before if not...Inquisitor, I have never see a mortal fight like that before. He did what two dozen of our people could not with such brutal precision...it was horrifying."

"Were any of our people hurt?" Max asked.

Cassandra shook her head. "No. He left all in Inquisition colors alone without harm. Inquisitor...what I saw...he is no longer human. Perhaps you convinced him to fight for you for a moment but he must be found and he must be contained. He is beyond Reaver, beyond possessed, he is..."

Cassandra choked slightly before finishing, "he is dangerous, more than I understood him to be before. We cannot let them have him, Inquisitor. No matter what, they cannot have him." 

Max swallowed hard. "Okay. We'll...we'll deal with him. One way or another."

*****

It was late, but the ball would continue for hours still. Max had no heart for celebrating so instead he went back to the near silent estate. He called for hot water and asked for a tub to be moved to his room. When it was ready, Max retired to the bath. He sunk into the deep tub, inhaling the smell of the lavender bath salts and the creamed honey soaps. He dunked his head underneath the water and rose again, wiping his face with a towel. It was decadent and luxurious and well earned. It had been a difficult few days and his body was aching. It would have all been too much for anyone, with the near death experience and the end of the civil war, and the stupid Game, and all the shitty things that he had dealt with in Orlais. He needed just to try to unwind, get some real rest, and try to forget any of it had ever happened. 

After his bath, he readied for bed and curled up in the soft sheets. It was late now, well past midnight, but he found himself still unable to rest. He groaned into his pillow, trying to coax himself into sleeping. After a time it looked as if that was not going to happen, so he turned to an old cure for insomniacs worldwide: self-pleasure. 

Max had been left an oil to massage his aching muscles with and after he freed himself from his sleepclothes, he drizzled some of it onto his fingers. He teased open the rim of his ass, slowly opening to his own touch. He arched his back, bringing his fingers deeper into him. He rode his own hand, pushing onto himself. He let his hips loosen, spreading his legs wide. The sheets fell by his side and he was bare against the cold night air. His skin prickled and his nipples hardened. His body was tensing, tightening, clenching. He could finish at any moment but he was teasing his body, making it last as long as he wanted to. At least he could control this. 

Max groaned at the sound of the window opening. The latch had been broken all week and since it wasn't his home, he hadn't cared to get it fixed. He opened his eyes only to see that there was someone standing at the edge of the bed. He started to scream but a hand closed down on his mouth. The man knelt over him and removed his black mask.

Max's eyes widened. It was the Winter Soldier. Max had seen what he was truly capable of and he should have been afraid, he should have been terrified, but he ached for him. He wanted him. 

Cullen removed his hand and kissed him hungrily. Max moaned and reached for him, only to be pushed back on the bed. Cullen removed a dagger from his belt and placed it on the nightstand. He flipped Max onto his knees. Then he undid his pants, just enough to free his cock, and slammed into him. 

Max cried out, his body screaming at the intrusion. Max had been fingering himself but gone were the gentle ministrations of a man who had pleasured himself a hundred times. This was about Cullen's pleasure, his passionate rage, and Max was barely a passing thought to him. 

Cullen raked his fingers into his hips, breaking the skin. Max moaned again and Cullen pushed his face into the mattress, smothering the sounds in the down. His fingers tangled around his hair, pulling just enough that his scalp tingled. Max reached between his legs but Cullen slapped his hand away and shifted his angle, brushing his prostate hard and fast. Max bucked against him, thrusting hard until he was right on the edge. 

Cullen grabbed his cock and fisted it, forcing him to finish. Max shuddered, spilling over his fingers, feeling as if he were floating. He rode out the orgasm and Cullen's hands returned his hips. He picked up speed and Max's body protested, so sensitive and worn from its climax. 

Max screamed out, begging and pleading, either to stop or keep going he didn't know. He felt like he was formed of raw nerves, like every inch of him was sparking. He was still soft but he knew he was about to come again. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. He felt so out of control of his own body and so present in it. And when his orgasm hit, he nearly passed out. He nearly dropped but Cullen held him, furiously pounding into his body, still grunting like an animal.

The assassin's breath started to falter and his motions slowed. Max was so out of it he had had not realized Cullen had finished until he felt his seed trickling out of him.   
Cullen rose and pulled his pants back up. He picked the blade off the table and put it back into his belt. 

The Winter Soldier leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Don't follow me, Max." 

Max tried to sit up but his legs shook too much. He heard the window close and the latch lock once more. Max lay on his back, panting. 

Cullen had called him by his name.


	5. Chapter 5

Max didn't tell a soul what happened, keeping the secret close to his chest for the week long journey back to Skyhold. He wanted to. A hundred times he thought about it. But he didn't know how to explain how he was feeling because honestly he didn't know how he felt. It had been incredible but it could have gone so badly. And what had it meant? Had Cullen been coming in to kill him and got distracted? Had he meant to say goodbye? Would he find him again? Was it all over?

No. He had promised Cassandra. One way or another, Cullen had to be dealt with. Max just prayed that didn't mean Cullen's death. 

When they arrived at Skyhold, Max was taken aside by Krem and asked to follow him. Krem led him down into the holding cells beneath the castle, stopping him when they reached the bottom of the steps. 

Krem explained, "He turned himself in last night. Me and the crew managed to hide him away before anyone saw him but it's going to get out."

"Who?" Max questioned.

Krem replied, "The black knight. Boss wrote us about him, said to keep an eye out if he tried to attack you here at Skyhold. But he says he wants you to help him. I don't get it, but the ghost boy told me I'd better listen to him. You might want to talk to the guy before your advisors figure out he's here."

Max started down the hall but Krem grasped his arm.

Krem's voice softened. "Be careful, Inquisitor. Just because he's unarmed doesn't mean he can't hurt you."

Max patted his shoulder before walking down the nearly empty cellblock. At the very end of the hall, Cullen sat on a bench in plain brown shift. Max unlocked the door and entered, closing it behind him. Max leaned against the bars as Cullen rose, attempting to stand before him. But Cullen's legs gave out and he fell to his knees. Max knelt down too, tentatively putting his hand on Cullen's cheek. 

"Are you okay?" Max asked gently. 

Cullen murmured. "Help me. Please help me."

Cullen shivered as if with fever but his skin was cold as ice. 

Max pleaded, "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me how I can help."

Cullen shook his head, whispering, "It...it hurts."

Max kissed his forehead before pressing his own against it. 

Max promised, "It'll be okay. I'm going to get a healer. We'll get you better. We'll figure this out together."

Cullen murmured, "Max..."

Max heard footsteps and turned, expecting to see Krem. Instead Cassandra stood on the other side of the bars, frowning sternly. 

"He's going into lyrium withdrawal," Cassandra explained quietly. "It must have already been several days if he made it here. He either took very little or he has a will of steel. Otherwise, he would be unconscious from the pain. He should rest, if he can. Let him shut his eyes for awhile."

Max helped Cullen lay down on the bench. He took off his cloak and tucked it around him. He squeezed his hand and kissed his forehead.

"I'll be back soon," Max said. "Try to get some sleep."

Max left, locking the door behind him. He lingered for a moment before Cassandra gave him a gentle shove towards the castle. When they made it to the guard station, Cassandra sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. 

"I know you will ask me what we can do for him but I do not know, Inquisitor," Cassandra admitted. "Lyrium addiction is complicated to begin with. There are many who do not survive withdrawal at all. But in Cullen's case, he draws his power on other sources as well. He is deadly as he is as a Reaver and it will be hard to break his taste for blood. And then there is the demon. I...I have never heard of anyone surviving a decade long possession. To rip out the creature might kill him, especially if he is weakened. But if he is allowed to take lyrium and blood, the demon will more easily control him."

"But he's fighting back already," Max encouraged. "Maybe if-"

"Inquisitor," Cassandra said, her voice growing softer, "the demon feeds from him. It has kept him alive because it wishes to keep him alive. It takes its nourishment from Cullen and Cullen has succumbed to it because it gives him everything he could ever fathom wanting. It is feeding from his pleasure, from his wants, from his desires. But it can only do so in a symbiotic way."

Max admitted, "I don't understand."

Cassandra swallowed hard. "I mean to say that the demon has let Cullen live so long because it can control him. Cullen wants, the demon provides. If that relationship changes, the demon will find a new host and it will consume Cullen before it leaves. The demon is losing control because what the Soldier seems to want more than all of these things is something the demon cannot control."

"And what's that?" 

Cassandra smiled sadly. "You, Max. The demon can't control you."

Max's face fell. "I'm killing him."

Cassandra said nothing and Max asked again, "What do I do? Tell me what to do."

Cassandra murmured, "I don't know. I wish I did. He is yours to judge, Inquisitor. I will respect your decision, though I know whatever you choose will have its controversies. Just...whatever you decide, do not blame yourself. This was not your fault. This was the Chantry's. And I will never let this happen again."

"I don't care about any of that," Max pleaded. "I just need to save him. Tell me how I save him, Cass. Please."

Cassandra hesitated for a long time and then finally said, "I'll need to tell the other three that he is here but I will inform them they are not to share that information or to act on it. I will stay guard here for now. You still have time to decide."

She didn't tell him to leave, but Max heard it in her voice. He was being dismissed. 

Max made it out to the parapets before he stopped shaking in rage. What was he supposed to do? Cullen had given himself up and was dying because of it. Did Cassandra expect him to sentence him in front of the entire court? Did she expect him to order his execution? To kill him in his sleep as a mercy?

Max leaned against the wall, burying his head in his hands. Max felt Cole's presence but he didn't turn to look at him. 

"There is always another way," Cole murmured. "You taught me that. Nothing is certain, not even death."

Max muttered, "If you've got an idea, I'd love to hear it, buddy."

Cole suggested, "Not all view demons as foes. Some have them enter and leave at their own will. And when they refuse to go, there is strength enough to push them out. We saw it together, in the great cold of the mountain."

Max frowned. "The Avvar?"

"One of theirs came to offer wisdom and friendship. He waits in the gardens for the time to receive them both."

Max turned to Cole and asked, "And what if the Sky Watcher can't help?"

Cole said gently, "Always another way. Always."

*****

Amund, Sky Watcher of the Avvar, was not a popular guest at Skyhold. Max didn't know him particularly well but he didn't know most of his diplomatic guests. He liked Amund well enough though. He had been invaluable in their time south with Stone-Bear Hold but he had been listless since then, allowed to simply putter around the castle and tease Andrastians. 

The Sky Watcher was in the gardens, as Cole had suggested. He was bent down in the earth, working in one of the many beds of herbs. He was nearly a foot taller than Max and the Inquisitor appreciated being able to approach him at a much closer height. Amund barely looked up at him, simply nodding in greeting.

Max asked, "Could I get your professional opinion on something?" 

*****

Amund's eyes widened and he took a step back, pulling his hand off Cullen's shoulder. Amund dragged Max from the cell and well up the hallway before putting his hands on Max's shoulders, his huge frame almost encompassing him.

"Inquisitor, that is frankly some of the weirdest shit I've ever seen. We need to get him to my people now. Not just for his sake, but everyone's." 

"You can help? You can do something to help him?"

Amund shook his head, clearly still trying to process what he had felt. " What did the Seeker tell you about what's happening to him?" 

Max explained sheepishly, "That it's a symbiotic relationship and it's weakening because of his feelings for me."

"As much as your romantic Seeker might want to believe this is all true love, there's a reason you managed to break through all that Chantry brainwashing. You give him something the demon can't. Sex. You might have started to remind him who he was just because he cares about you. I felt that. But it's a lot of lust in there too. Cullen only wants you and you're submissive. The demon can't give you to him because you've already very clearly his. Some lyrium-drunk and blood-high part of his brain wants you more than it wants anything else. Reavers get like that around their mates. A lot of really rough, possessive sex." 

Max wanted the floor to swallow him up. He would rather die than continue this conversation. But that wasn't an option so he tried to keep a calm expression as Amund continued talking. 

"So if the Reaver is doing well, I'd say let him stay a Reaver for now, at least until we can get him to Stone-Bear Hold. Between me and their augur, we should be able to get the demon out. Let him feed and he should be well enough to travel. On foot it should take you about a week but I'll rush ahead and get things ready."

"Just the two of us?" Max questioned. "Is that a good idea?"

"There are three things that are going to happen on your trip South. One, lyrium withdrawal. That means muscle pain, headaches, fits of rage, and other mood swings. Two, he's a Reaver and he gets his power from drinking blood. Since he's trying not to kill anyone, that means a lot of hunting and eating game raw so I hope you're not squeamish. He's also going to be a fairly feral. I haven't seen lyrium withdrawal before but I've seen what happens when a Reaver gives up his sword. He's going to be focused on the basics: food and sex. That means you're not going to get much sleep and he's not going to let anyone else near you. You'll be fine. He's not going to hurt you. Much." 

Max shuddered. "When do we leave?"

Amund smirked. "After you feed him."

*****

Max only told Cassandra what he was doing. She grunted, made a few disgusted sounds, then told him that she would travel with the Sky Watcher. She wanted to see what he could do that the Chantry could not. The others, she said that there was a diplomatic incident and that she and the Inquisitor had to immediately ride to Stone-Bear Hold to fix it. 

Max had procured a raw slab of meat for Cullen, leaving him to dine while he packed for the journey. He returned to the jail cell to free him and found Cullen on his feet, dressed in his traveling clothes, the light slowly returning to his eyes.

"Are you better?" Max asked. "You look better."

Max opened the cell but Cullen didn't move, his hungry eyes meeting his. Max shivered, Amund's words coming to mind. Cullen moved closer to him, his mouth a breath from his, and he waited. He was giving Max a chance to act first, even if he panted like a wolf, ready to snarl, ready to strike. 

Max leaned in and kissed him softly. Cullen kissed him just as tenderly at first and then broke it abruptly, pulling away to look into his eyes.

Max whispered, "It's okay. I want this too."

Cullen kissed him harder, shoving him up against the wall. Max groaned, sinking into his embrace. Cullen's hands immediately went to Max's trousers, undoing the stays and pushing them past his hips. Cullen flipped Max around onto his front before lowering his own pants, just enough to free his cock. 

Max murmured, "The vial in my jacket pocket." 

Max shivered, soon feeling Cullen press against him, slick with oil. Cullen forced his legs open and pushed into him, spreading him further open with each hard thrust. Max gripped the wall with his fingers, trying to will himself to relax. He felt the edge of pleasure and memories of that night in Orlais slipped unwillingly into his mind. He was already romanticizing what happened instead of seeing the truth, the same truth that lay before him now. This wasn't about what Max wanted. This was about Cullen's twisted, brutal desires and Max being screwed up enough to get off on them. 

Max came back to the moment when Cullen bit into his neck, nipping it hard enough to draw blood. The Soldier licked the wound, groaning. Max shuddered and Cullen's thrusts picked up pace. Max pushed against him, desperate for his cock. He wanted it so badly. He wanted to lose his mind and scream. He wanted Cullen to break him. 

One of Cullen's hands moved to his throat. It barely brushed his skin but Max nearly came right there and then. Cullen grasped him, not choking him, but holding him in place. Max whispered his name and Cullen gave one hard squeeze before letting go.

"Shut up," he hissed.

Max reached between his own legs but Cullen grabbed his wrists and pinned his arms behind his back with one hand. Cullen's hand now covered his mouth and his breath was hot against Max's neck. 

"Shut up," he whispered in his ear, "or I'll tear you in two."

Max's vision went white as his dry climax rippled through him. He was sure he must have screamed but he could not sense anything but Cullen's hand on his cock. He rode out his finish, whimpering against his hand as Cullen took a few last brutal thrusts in him. He withdrew and tossed Max to his knees. Cullen was still hard, throbbing, his cock painfully red. But his face was just as cool and calm. He looked as if he were analyzing a battlefield, deciding how best to destroy his enemy. 

He pushed Max's face into the prison's dirt floor and entered him again. Max cried out against the earth as Cullen sought his own completion, grunting in a focused way that meant he was close. Max wanted to sob. He was so sensitive, so overwhelmed, so ready to completely fall apart. Cullen's hand went around his cock and within a few strokes, he was lost, crying as his body trembled, spurting onto the ground. He was nothing. He was nothing more than a deviant being taken like a sow in the mud. He was nothing but this base need. He was worthless. He was nothing.

Cullen only sighed as he climaxed, slamming into Max's abused hole a few times, before coming inside of him. Cullen withdrew only when he grew soft, leaving Max bare and broken. He picked Max up like he was a child and brought them over to the bench. Max sat painfully in his lap and Cullen kissed him like a drowning man searching for air. Max clung to him, burying his face in his shoulder as he wept. Cullen cradled him protectively and Max eased, finding comfort in his touch. 

Cullen whispered through his own tears, half apologizing, half pleading, "I love you." 

Max kissed him, gripping onto him tightly. They had to move. They had to go before the wrong person knew they were there. But Max never wanted to let go of him. He never wanted him out of his grasp ever again. 

"I'm going to save you," Max swore. "Whatever it takes. I'm going to save you."


	6. Chapter 6

**heads up, there's some pretty dubby-con ahead**

The first two days were harder than Max could ever have expected. Cullen ranged in his temperament moment to moment. Sometimes he would be as weak as a newborn kitten and he would be so sweet then. He would share Max's horse, embracing him as Max held the reigns. Cullen would kiss his neck sweetly and bury his face in his shoulder, whimpering when the withdrawal was too painful for words. Then there would be other times when he would just growl and disappear, running off ahead into the woods and leaving Max to travel forward, hoping each time that Cullen would return to him. The first time he had tried to track him down only to find Cullen with a strangled rabbit and eating it raw while sobbing.

Amund had warned him but Max was still shocked to see it. The Reaver in him had to feed in order to stave off the demon's influence. He needed to get strength from animalistic desires or he was not going to survive the journey to the Avvar. The second part of the Sky Watcher's warning turned out to be true as well - several times a day. 

By the fourth day they had settled into a sort of routine and Cullen had mostly realized that rough anal sex did not go well with days on horseback. Even in his more feral states, he could usually be directed to other activities. 

Except on day six. 

Cullen was strong that day and almost capable of holding a conversation. He rode beside Max, always close enough he could reach out and touch him. It was sunny, the wind was fresh and sweet, and they would likely reach their destination by the next afternoon, even earlier if they decided to travel through the night. 

But something triggered him. Max could see it happen but had no idea why. Cullen just suddenly stopped cold. He started shaking and dismounted, his last rational action tying his horse to a tree. Max dismounted as well, walking over to ask if he was all right and Cullen hissed at him to shut up, covering his own ears. 

Then Max heard it, the quiet hiss, and a soft sultry voice in his own mind. 

_You will lose him._

Max watched helplessly as Cullen fell to his knees, crying out. Max knelt down beside him, putting his hand on his shoulder. 

_What will he do when he realizes you can't save him? What will he do when you fail?_

Cullen howled in pain, curling in on himself. He managed to whimper, "Max."

"I'm here," Max promised, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. You can fight this. The demon is just striking now because it knows it's about to lose. Tell me what I need to do. I'll do anything, just tell me what to do."

_You don't love him like I love him. He is mine. You will not have him. Even if he lives a century, he will never be yours. He will not allow himself to be._

Cullen shoved Max's hand off him and stood. Cullen tried to back away but he stepped forward, yanking Max up hard by his throat. Max pushed him away, coughing hard as he caught his breath. Cullen shook his head, tears running down his face. Cullen slapped Max hard across the jaw and Max nearly crumpled. He grabbed his shield off his horse and threw it in front of him. Cullen ripped it from his hands and flung it into the woods. Cullen tossed himself to the ground, forcing his fists down into the dirt.

He looked up and pleaded, "Max, go."

Max refused, "Not without you. We're almost there. We can make it. You can fight this. I know you can. You're stronger than it is. You can do this."

_You don't mean anything to him. You're just a body to him. You're just something to use like his fist and discard. He doesn't love you. He doesn't want you. He's using you until he bores of you. You're not special. He knows you're nothing._

Cullen reached out and grabbed his leg, dragging him down to the ground. He pushed Max beneath him, face pressed into the dirt and unlaced his own trousers, freeing his hard cock. Max reached back to pull down his small clothes but Cullen grasped his wrists in one hand and forced them to his back. His other hand ripped the small clothes straight off of him. He felt Cullen's fingers against his skin, barely wet with spit. 

Max struggled against Cullen's hands and Cullen stilled. He whimpered and pulled away. Max looked over his shoulder to see Cullen sitting on his heels behind him, his face in his hands. 

Max shook out his wrists and tried to push himself off the ground. He shakily got to his knees before Cullen was on him again, pressing his back down on the earth. 

Cullen whimpered, "The demon...wants me to hurt you. Wants...so you don't...so I don't...Max, Max, I love you. I love you so much. I'm fighting it but I can't...Max...I want you. I think I'll die if I don't have you. I think I'll die if I do." 

Max murmured, "You don't have to fight it. Not now. We're almost there. Save your strength. You're not taking anything I'm not willing to give."

Cullen kissed him hungrily and Max threw his arms around his neck. Cullen kissed him harder, bringing him into his arms. Max ran his fingers through his hair and whispered in his ear, "I love you." 

Cullen spat in his hand and slicked himself the best he could before slamming into Max. Max screamed into Cullen's open mouth, moaning and pleading and sobbing as Cullen rutted into him. They were both raw to the other, bare and broken, crying between possessive kisses. Max hated how hard he was, how much he wanted this, how much he wanted to die in Cullen's arms right then, how much he wanted to live a lifetime like this. He belonged to him. His life, his body, everything was his. 

Max wanted to tell him that but he was too hoarse from screaming.

Cullen jutted forward, his entire body shaking as he came. Max held his face in his hands, coaxing him through his orgasm, promising him that everything was all right. 

Cullen brought him deep into his arms and wept. Max cradled him, kissing his tear struck face, whispering assurances, swearing his undying love, but Max knew that Cullen wasn't really there with him. Wherever he was, it was somewhere that Max couldn't follow. 

_You will lose him._

 

******

They rode through the night, Cullen silent as the grave. They arrived at Stone-Bear Hold by dawn and Cullen was swept away to the Augur. Max wanted to go with him but instead was forced to see a healer. 

Max was bathed with spring water and sweet smelling leaves. The women who helped him were both quite elderly and their hands were soft and gentle. Neither of them spoke any of the languages he did but he could still recognize the kindness in their words. Max hadn't realized how much he was aching until being enveloped in warmth. He had agreed to all his activities with Cullen but that didn't mean that they hadn't hurt. And that last time, the time when the spirit tried to take control...

_You will lose him._

After the women decided he was clean and his aches and pains tended, Max was allowed to find the Sky Watcher. He recognized a few people from his last time at the Hold but most didn't meet his glance. He didn't care. He wasn't here to gain allies; he was here to get Cullen well.

He found Amund well up the mountain in an offshoot of a larger cave. Cullen was naked and bound with thick rope to a cold stone slab. He appeared to be unconscious but Max didn't know if the state was induced or he was just asleep. 

The Sky Watcher greeted him and introduced the other Augur but Max was too distracted and didn't pick up the name. He couldn't look away from Cullen's worn face. He looked like death was near and he was too tired to fight it any longer.

Amund translated for his colleague. "His soul is too tired to bring out the demon. His body needs physical rest. We have given him a draft to drink that will help bring a deep sleep. In a few hours, we will begin the ritual."

Max asked, "What can I do?" 

"You should rest as well if you can. This is between him and the demon. It would be better if you were not here to complicate matters."

Max swallowed hard. "But-"

Amund spoke for himself now. "Go find your Seeker. She will be glad to see that you have survived. Her shelter is not far from here. I will find you if you are needed."

*****

Max didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep but shortly after greeting Cassandra, she all but tucked him in and he found his eyelids drooping. He was safe with her. She would protect him, even from himself.

Max didn't know how long he had been asleep when he suddenly jerked awake, the demon's screams ringing through his ears. Max threw on his boots and raced up the mountain. He reached the cave and a warrior stopped him, putting her hand on his chest. Max tried to ask what was going on but she silenced him with a look.

There were screams and sobs. Chants and spells. Roars of pain and of power. Max stood there, barely dressed, waiting desperately in the twilight. There was a final crash, like weapons striking a stone floor. Then the warrior eased her stance, murmuring something to herself.

Not long after Amund appeared behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She stepped aside and Amund signaled Max to follow. They went into another room where Cullen was being wrapped in pelts. He was shivering feverishly, his face soaked with sweat. He blearily looked up at Max and Max instinctively went to him. Without words, Max stripped down and wrapped his body around Cullen's. Cullen clung to him, burying his face in his chest. 

"It's gone," he whispered. "It's gone. I'm alone. Maker, it's so quiet..."

Cullen broke into sobs, deep body wracking sobs. Max held him close, sheltering him from everything else. Max said nothing, barely keeping it together himself. Cullen had survived but he was suffering so deeply that Max wished he had never brought him here. Max would have done anything to protect him from this pain. 

"What can I do?" Max pleaded. "What can I do?"

Cullen only cried and that was answer enough. Nothing. Max could do nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Cullen slept on and off for the next two days. Max didn't leave his side until the Reavers came for Cullen, bringing him out on the hunt. Cullen was still weak but he didn't refuse and left with them.

Max spent that day in slight panic. Cullen had barely been on his feet and had been plagued with night terrors. He trusted the Avvar and he trusted Cullen's skill in battle. But Cullen was fighting with significantly less power than he had before and he was still recovering from withdrawal. But there was nothing Max could do to help so he just let him go.

Cassandra had been patient but she seized the opportunity to steal Max away. They walked down around the lake together, pausing occasionally to look at an interesting rock or a lovely bird. Neither of them were much good at small talk so neither one of them tried. Instead, Cassandra went straight to the point.

"Inquisitor, we cannot stay here much longer. Your absence has been long enough already. He is safe now and our mission is complete. We must return to Skyhold within the next few days. Already Leliana has sent me her birds and I need to know what to say in return before she sends her spies across the country to find you."

Max refused, "I can't leave him. He needs me."

"Then he will have to come with us," Cassandra replied. "Either way, we have our duties. I know what you feel for him and if there were any other choice for you, I would offer it. But you are the Inquisitor. All you have done to save him will be for nothing if Corypheus destroys the world."

"I know," Max acknowledged, "but..."

Cassandra said softly, "It is the first time in a decade that the man is able to make his own decisions. Speak to him. Ask him what he wishes but you know there is only so much you can offer."

Max closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, yeah I know."

Max looked back to Cassandra and smiled sadly. "Thank you for everything. I...I couldn't have gotten him here without you."

Cassandra admitted, "Probably not."

Max bowed his head and chuckled. Cassandra continued walking ahead, claiming she spotted a kingfisher. Max followed, trying to focus on this time with her instead of the decisions that lay before him.

*****

Cullen didn't return until the next morning. Max was haggling with a shieldmaker when he heard the Reavers enter the Hold. Max gave up on his purchase and left the mercantile area, going further down the road to face the gate. Max saw Cullen from a distance with other hunters, hauling a deer carcass across his back. The men around him were laughing and Cullen smirked, his cheeks pink underneath his war paint. 

Even from that distance, Cullen seemed to know he was being watched and his face fell. He scanned through the crowd ahead of him, his eyes meeting Max's before the Inquisitor realized he should look away. 

Something in Cullen's expression changed, his face softening, the merriment in his face fading. Max felt like he should go to him but he felt frozen to the spot. Max was suddenly inexplicably afraid and he wanted to bolt. He didn't want to talk to Cullen, he didn't want to hear whatever he was about to say because Max knew, somehow knew, that Cullen was going to leave him. 

Cullen handed the kill to another and he went to Max, sweeping him into his arms. Max clung to him, taking in the scent of sweat and leather and the crisp of the snow-capped mountains. 

When Max pulled away, Max said softly, "We should talk."

Cullen smiled sadly and agreed, "We should."

Neither of them moved for a time, staying in that moment for as long as possible. But Max forced himself to take Cullen's hand and bring him back to the room where they had been staying. Two nights of being entwined in the other, holding the other, without sex, but just skin against skin, and the occasional chaste kiss on a brow or temple or whatever could be reached in such closeness. 

Max sat on the edge of the bed but Cullen remained standing.

Max began, "I need to go back to Skyhold. I...I can't stay much longer." 

Cullen bowed his head. "Max..."

Max's throat tightened. "I know. You can't come with me, can you?"

Cullen admitted, "No. The hunt showed me a lot about myself, who I am without the demon. I'm not the man I want to be. To protect myself, I hurt you. I degraded you. I abused you and I can't...I can't look at you and not see everything that happened between us."

"But it's okay," Max assured, rising to his feet. "We're both okay. We can be together now. We can finally be together." 

Cullen admitted, "Max, I don't think we can. Not like this. I can't go back with you. Not until...you deserve better than me. And I can't keep you safe. I'm still a weapon, Max, and your people are right to want me destroyed, even without the demon. It's safer for everyone if I stay with the Avvar. At least for now. Then maybe, maybe in the future, but I...I can't. I can't be with you right now."

Max cognitively understood what he was saying but he still begged. "Cullen, please, please don't do this. Please, please, I just want to be with you. Nothing else matters. I'll stay here with you. I'll never leave, never again. Just please. Please."

Cullen held his face in his hands and Max looked up into his eyes. 

"You saved my life," Cullen whispered. "You rescued me. I wouldn't be here without you. You brought me back to life, Max. You risked everything for me and I will be eternally grateful for your faith in me. And I am...I am so madly in love with you. I have been from the moment I met you, all those years ago. How could I not be anything other than absurdly, tragically in love with you?" 

Max was unsure who started the kiss but he was the one to pull away. He had been here before. He had done the tearstained farewell. He had never truly gotten over the last one, some part of him always fixed on Cullen, Max somehow knowing that he was never going to love someone as much as he loved Cullen. 

But the demon had loved Cullen too and it nearly killed him for it. Love wasn't about controlling or possessing someone. It didn't matter if Max ever saw Cullen again. He hadn't done all that he had done because he was determined to have Cullen as his own. Max had done it because he wanted Cullen's suffering to end. It wasn't about Max. Max had to let him go so he could heal. To do anything less was to be as destructive as the demon that had held him captive for so long. If Max loved him, really loved him, he needed to let him go. 

Max smiled weakly. "I just want you to be happy. If I...if I make it worse, if I make it harder, then I don't want to hold you back. And you don't have to wait for me. If you meet someone, if you meet someone who makes it better, then you should be with them. I...I love you, but...but I guess that doesn't mean people end up together. And that's okay. It is. I want you to stay and figure things out and I don't want you to worry about me. It's better this way, for both of us. I have the whole world to save. It's probably easier to not have a love life until that's okay."

Cullen kissed his forehead. "Goodbye, Max."

Max's mind raced, trying to figure out something clever and witty to say, some final remark that would show how he was just fine and that everything would be all right. But Max couldn't face that this might be the last thing he ever said to Cullen, that this was the end of their relationship. What could he possibly say?

So instead he said nothing, only bowing his head as Cullen left. 

*****

If Max had been allowed to, he would have spent a week in bed. But he didn't have that luxury. He had run away and there were consequences for that. Work needed to be done, relationships needed to be mended. He was the Inquisitor. He had a job to do and there were responsibilities he had been neglecting. But that didn't stop him from the crushing feeling of the deep and profound loss of loving and losing once again.

Max threw himself into the quest, claiming to anyone who asked that he was fine. He didn't even get drunk or seek out any unhealthy sex or anything else destructive. He was focused and determined, even with his broken heart.

But being physically lost in the Fade would throw anyone off. 

Max had been separated from the others, wandering off to peek into others' nightmares and attempting to ease them. In the midst of finding a candle, Max heard a taunting voice. Not Fear's, as he suspected, but the Desire demon newly banished to the Fade after being exorcised from Cullen. 

_You left him. He needed you and you left him. I would have given him forever. I would have given him everything. But you left him with the savages that tore us apart. You left him to be destroyed. Will you be there with him when he loses his mind? Will you be there with him when he breaks? No...nor did he want you to be. You were convenient. You were pliant. You were a way to survive. He was disgusted by you in the end. He couldn't stand the sight of you. How could he respect you after everything you let him do to you? After he saw how much you loved it? How much you needed it? How could he ever love someone as disgusting as you?_

Max took a deep breath and said softly, "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if he loves me, now or ever. I love him. I will always love him. He's safe from you now. He's safe from me too. For what's it worth, demon, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're hurting. I hope that it stops someday." 

_He is mine. I will have him again. You will not leave this place alive. You will never take him from me again. You will die, Inquisitor, at my Master's hands, and I will use your blood to cross to your realm and I will find him. He will be mine._

Max smiled wistfully. "He won't be. He's not any man but his own. I told you, it doesn't matter. He chose himself. He chose his own happiness, his own heart. Cullen will never take you back. He's stronger now than he ever was with you. You may be right. I may never leave the Fade. I might die here. But he will never be yours, demon, and you're a greater fool than me to think otherwise."

The demon balked at his words. _You are wrong. He is mine!_

Fear's voice boomed through the valley. "Enough, Desire. Go back into the shadows. You only strengthen his resolve. If you are no good to me, flee. I will have his soul myself. I know his darkest parts better than you."

Max chuckled. "There is nothing you could say to me that I haven't said to myself and I've already lived through the worst things that could have happened to me. I've been afraid before, the sort of fear that makes you feel like you're dying. There's nothing worse you could do to me that I haven't already done to myself."

Max found what he was looking for and then he moved on.


	8. Chapter 8

**Two years later...**

Of all the times and places that Max thought he would see Cullen again, he never suspected it would be at the Winter Palace in the hours before the Exalted Council. 

Cullen was dressed in traditional Ferelden wear, but his hair was long and braided as the Avvar did. Two of his clanspeople had come with him, both clearly disgusted at the sights of the Winter Palace but enjoying the scandal their presence was causing. At seeing Max, Cullen said something quietly to his companions and they headed towards the tavern. 

Cullen made his way across the courtyard towards him and Max started panicking, sweating profusely through his formal suit. His new - as of twenty minutes ago - mabari brushed his face against Max's leg comfortingly. 

When Cullen reached him, Max promptly stuck out his hand to shake. Cullen did so but then hugged him tightly. Max squeezed back before letting go and holding him at arm's length. 

"What are you doing here?" Max asked.

Cullen explained, "I came to testify on behalf of the Inquisition and it's Inquisitor. The people of Stone-Bear Hold are indebted to you...as am I. There are peoples throughout Thedas who are sending representatives, calling for the continuation of a secular Inquisition."

"That's wonderful. I don't think it's going to make a lick of difference, but I'm honoured. I really am. That means a lot to me and I'm sure it's going to mean a lot for the rest of our people."

Cullen hesitated. "As well I...I came for personal reasons. I needed to see you. I know it's been awhile since I've written and I should have warned you first, but I couldn't risk waiting any longer. I know that you probably don't have any time right now and it's terrible timing but if you have five minutes, I'd appreciate it." 

Max's heart skipped a beat. "I've got five minutes."

Cullen brought him out to a balcony looking over the valley below, the mabari trotting behind them. Max leaned against the railing as Cullen paced, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Cullen finally calmed enough to stand still, but he kept his hands tightly behind his back.

"I heard a rumour and I just needed...you're not...that I mean, you're not engaged to be married. Are you?"

"What?" Max laughed in surprise. "Me? Marry? Who exactly am I supposed to be marrying?" 

Cullen sighed in relief. "I was told that you were betrothed to Dorian. You're not?"

"No, he's marrying Trevelyan. Maker, do people still think he's the Inquisitor? How are people still making that mistake?" 

Cullen blushed. "Then I'm just making a fool of myself."

"No," Max assured. "You're being a lot more graceful about it than if I had heard that you were getting married. Wait...why did you need to talk about that with me? You could have just written if you were going to congratulate me."

Cullen went back to rubbing his neck. "I wasn't...I wasn't going to do it like this. And now there's a dog...no, no, forget I brought it up."

"Okay," Max said, frowning. "It's forgotten."

Cullen stammered, "Wait. It's that...I bought an inn two months ago. Back in Honnleath. It's rundown but I was thinking of fixing it up and making it a place for lyrium users to get back on their feet. There's an apartment above it. It's not much, but there's a beautiful view of the Frostbacks and a lot of riding trails. And there's this group of mountain goats that keep showing up, but they're very friendly. I was thinking...I had been thinking that I might ask you, if this falls through with the Inquisition, if you would move there with me."

Max asked, "Move in with you?"

"I thought...I'm never going to be who I was before I went to the Tower, but I am happy with who I am. And you and I, we've been doing well, writing back and forth. I thought that maybe we were at the right place to try it again. I was going to wait until after the Council and see what things looked like for you."

"But you thought I was going to get married and you'd miss your chance."

Cullen agreed, "Yes. And then it made me think that...that maybe I wasn't offering enough. That I wanted to give more and I was just afraid. Because I know how I feel about you and I know I want to spend my life with you. So I had..."

Cullen chuckled. "I had this wild idea that I would ask you to break off your engagement and elope with me instead." 

Max was about ninety percent sure he was about to have a heart attack. "What?"

The bells began to sound and they both looked towards the Palace.

"I guess your five minutes are up," Cullen murmured.

Max cursed to himself and then said, "I've got to go. We'll talk tonight, okay? And...this is weird, but do you mind keeping an eye on the dog?"

The mabari barked happily and Cullen smiled, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears. The bells continued to ring and Max apologized before racing off.

*****

Max felt the absence as he woke up. There was no phantom pain and no sense that he was missing an arm. It felt like a betrayal of physics. Something took up that space. Things were not supposed to be able to go through it. Then he noticed another hand lying in the space that should not exist. 

Cullen sat beside him, eyes closed, lightly snoring. His arm rested near Max's amputation, propping his head against the bed. Max turned to look at him, watching his peaceful face. Cullen stirred, blinking as he looked up at him.

Cullen murmured, "You're up. How do you feel?"

"Lighter," Max joked weakly. "I'll deal with the psychological trauma in a bit, but I have to get back to the Council. Help me up?"

Cullen did so, looping Max's arm around his shoulder. His advisors ran in, saying a hundred different things, but Max felt oddly calm. He knew what he had to do. The Inquisition would be disbanded and they would prepare for the oncoming storm without the Chantry's ropes around their wrists.

Before Max went back into the Council and descended them into further chaos, he looked at Cullen, letting the world grow fuzzy around them. Max held him, bringing his face to his and kissed him softly. The others grew quiet for a moment, but not quiet enough to hear what Max whispered in Cullen's ear. Cullen nodded and Max kissed him again before letting go and entering the Council chambers.

*****

Max only told Cassandra where he was going. He had hesitated at first but she promised him that she and the other advisors would handle the Inquisition's dismantle. Max had nearly died and he had lost his shield arm. It was okay for him to go home and finally get some rest.

Cullen sat behind Max on a shared horse, his arms protectively around him as he held the reins. Max spoke little but stayed close, often wrapping them both in the same cloak. The mabari walked beside them, apparently determined that he would make his home with them.

Max was exhausted but he only fell apart when they reached Honnleath. He nearly collapsed dismounting and Cullen caught him. He carried him into the inn and up the stairs into their home. Cullen helped him into the bedroom before going to fix the fireplace and get water boiling for tea. The dog jumped up on the bed and snuggled up to Max.

Not long after, Cullen returned with weak tea and another blanket. Max took both, apologizing for so weak but Cullen stopped him, kissing his brow. 

"You are the strongest man I have ever met," he said softly. "The bravest, most foolish and wonderful man. You took care of me when I needed you most and I intend to take care of you. Just rest, Max. Just rest." 

Max feebly pulled at Cullen to come onto the bed with him. Max rested against his chest, placing his hand over Cullen's heart. Cullen took it and kissed it before letting it rest against him once more. 

Max knew it wasn't going to be easy. Their future together was going to hurt and it might be very, very short. In the days since his confrontation with Solas, Max had imagined a hundred terrible scenarios for the next few years. He had no idea how he was going to face them, what he was going to have to do. What he would have to sacrifice next. 

But when he was in Cullen's arms, it all felt a little less terrifying. Max could find shelter in that, could find meaning in it. He had fought so long and so hard for this moment and he could linger in it for a little while. Maybe it would be years, maybe it would be mere minutes, but for now they were together and they were breathing and that was the only thing Max could fathom caring about.


End file.
